"Now." He set down the metal piece, stood up, and swiftly donned his robe.
Lampard walked through the side yard and across the wooden bridge, entering the depths of the estate.
At the end of the stairs, there was only a wooden door sealed with an iron lock.
Lampard raised his hand, and the guard at the door immediately unlocked it.
As the wooden door was pushed open, damp cold air hit him, the basement was dark and silent, like a secret waiting to be uncovered.
Lampard stepped into the shadows and said softly, "Light the lamp."
The flame ignited, and he walked further inward alone, his expression unchanged.
The deeper he went, the colder the air became, and the passage at the end of the stairs was narrow, with walls on both sides engraved with ancient crown patterns, only here the patterns were inverted, petals pointing downward, resembling an overturned prayer.
The light shone on the ground, revealing scenes that tightened one's heart.
